


Lay It All Down

by brendonboydburie



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: 4.11, Gallavich, M/M, lip being a good big brother and all, lip's only a little bit of a jerk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 05:03:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1416094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brendonboydburie/pseuds/brendonboydburie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lip tests Mickey the morning after he and Ian came home bloody and bruised, but smiling like idiots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lay It All Down

**Author's Note:**

> 4x11 reaction fic. Because I literally cannot get enough of Lip/Mickey interaction, and I really adore Lip taking charge of the family these days. I feel like he would definitely think being the scary older brother is one of his responsibilities. He's only a jerk in the beginning because he has to be.

Mickey shuffled down the stairs to the kitchen tiredly, rubbing his sore jaw as he yawned and stretched his aching muscles, hearing his joints creak in protest as he did. He was going to be in pain for fuckin’ ever.

He blinked blearily as he made his way to the refrigerator, yanking it open and looking for orange juice with a frown that was more akin to a grmiace, the kind of look his mom used to say would freeze on his face if he wore it too often. 

Well. She hadn’t been wrong. 

He wondered idly why the house was so quiet at this time of morning, when he was used to the 7:15 chaos, what sounded like a hurricane blowing through the house every morning which woke him every time without fail, making him grumble and burrow further into the recently vacated sheets, still warm from the weight of Ian, his smell still embedded in the fabric.

He pieced together slowly that it was Saturday as he fished a cup out of the cupboard, rubbing at his heavy eyelids and willing himself to crack them open more than just the slit necessary to find him juice.

It wasn’t until he finally turned, full glass in hand, that he noticed he wasn’t alone. Lip Gallagher, with a bowl of cereal in front of him and a spoon sticking out of his mouth, was sat at the kitchen counter, watching Mickey with a raised eyebrow.

"Jesus, man," Mickey huffed, startled. "Warn a guy."

"What’s up with your face?" Lip asked bluntly, sounding almost bored, although he watched Mickey intently.

Mickey sighed, rubbing a hand over his hair. He didn’t feel like doing this now. He needed some kind of caffeine in his blood stream and to be upstairs, back in bed, cuddled up with Ian, who, for the first time Mickey could remember, was actually still asleep when he woke up, back pressed solidly to Mickey’s chest and chin tucked into the crook of his elbow. 

"Got into a fight," Mickey replied tiredly without much explanation, spying the coffee pot and reaching for a mug. 

"Yeah, no shit," Lip replied, sounding amused. "Nice nose job." Mickey rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you tell a bar fulla drunk homophobes you like dick," Mickey shot back.

Lip grinned smugly, which made Mickey’s stomach roll.

"I know," he answered. "Ian told me." Mickey frowned. So Ian had been up, as he and Mickey had fallen asleep last night wrapped around each other when their blood had finally been cleaned and Mickey’s hands stopped shaking.

"Oh," Mickey snarked, like it wasn’t a big deal that Lip fuckin’ Gallagher was sitting there, staring at Mickey and smirking at him because he knew about what was probably the most monumental day of Mickey’s fucking life.

The room was quiet for a few minutes, and Mickey tried not to acknowledge how fucking awkward it was as he sat and mixed his coffee, feeling Lip’s eyes on him the whole time.

"So," Lip started, finally, when the tension had built just enough that Mickey felt like he was on the edge of a fucking cliff or something. "You and Ian, huh?"

Mickey grunted in response.

"You love him?"

Mickey choked on the orange juice halfway down his throat, spluttering as he looked up at Lip sharply. 

Lip shrugged. “Just wondering.”

"Yeah, well how ‘bout you mind your fuckin’ business?" Mickey snapped, glaring at the ground. 

Lip sent him a half-hearted smile, and Mickey couldn’t help but feel like it was the most condescending thing in the world, and it made his skin prickle.

"I don’t know, man. It kinda is my business. I just wonder if it’s the best thing…" Lip sighed, looking down at the newspaper, very obviously not looking Mickey in the eye.

Mickey just stared at him. If his skin was prickling before, it was downright crawling now. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked quietly.

Lip shrugged again. “I just wonder if you’re really the best thing in the world for him. Being who you are, and all…”

Mickey felt a nauseous rolling in his stomach, a heat that told him he was getting pissed, and he knew he had to keep that in check, but it made him clench a fist unconsciously. “What the fuck is your problem, man?” he demanded, glaring at Lip.

Lip looked up, looking him dead in the eye. “I don’t know if you’re good for my brother. And I’m not sure if you should be with him.”

Mickey felt something snap, indignation and jealousy and anger rolling through him all at once and he nearly growled at Lip.

"Okay, listen up, fucktard," Mickey started, setting in, his blood boiling. "I don’t give a flying fuck what you think. I’ve spent too damn long worrying about what fuckers like you think, and I’m done. I’m fuckin’ done. You have any idea how much I’ve been through for that kid?" he insisted, doing everything he could to keep from yelling. "You got any clue the shit I’ve done for him? I’ve nearly gotten myself killed for him. I went to juvie over him, twice, and you know what? I’d do it all again. I’d do any of it fucking again, I’d do anything for him. ‘Cuz you know what? Yeah, I fuckin’ love him. Fuck you, I love him, and I’d do anything for him, and I’ve fought too damn long and too damn hard for him, and I’m not gonna fucking lose him again. You got a problem with that, you can go fuck yourself backwards," he finished, seething, hands clenched into fists so tightly his nails dug into his palms, and he knew it would leave marks.

And Lip just sat there, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, with the dumbest fucking satisfied grin on his face, and it made Mickey want to hit him more than he already did.

“ _What?_ ” Mickey demanded.

Lip put his hands up in a mock-surrender gesture, smiling. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

Mickey frowned at him, confused, unclenching his fists a little. “The fuck you on about?”

Lip shrugged, running a hand through his hair. “I was being a dick because I needed to hear it from you. I’ve heard enough from Ian, but I needed to hear the real thing.”

Mickey stared at him, still lost, waiting for some kind of explanation.

Lip watched him for a minute before he sighed. “Look, man,” he started. “Ian’s my brother. I take that shit seriously. I know I don’t have to tell you what it means to protect your family, you’ve got Mandy, and - look, I know. And I know you know. Ian’s my little brother, and I would do anything to protect him,” he explained, standing up and leaning against the counter, crossing his arms.

"I’m not gonna pretend we’re in some fuckin’ fantasy world that we’re not. This is the South Side of Chicago. People are fuckin’ nuts, and a good majority of them don’t take kindly to gay dudes. If you’re gonna do this thing with my brother - for real, do this, in real life, in public - I need to know you’re gonna take care of him. I need to know you’re someone who’s gonna fight for him. I was being a dick because I needed to know just how serious you were."

Mickey was quiet, staring at Lip for a long time, his words and the truth of them, the reality of it all settling on him. It made him look away, biting his lip, yet he nodded.

"Ian can take care of himself, ya know," he muttered defensively.

Lip nodded. “Yeah, I know he can. Against what’s out there. I’m also worried about him taking care of himself when it comes to what’s in here,” Lip said, a sharp gesture to the left side of his chest, and Mickey would’ve gagged at how fuckin’ gay it was what Lip was saying if he didn’t understand how serious this was.

"You fucked him up really bad one time around," Lip continued, watching Mickey appraisingly. "So bad…I didn’t even recognize him when he first came back."

Mickey listened, but refused to look up. He knew it was true. What happened to Ian in the time he’d run off - that was on Mickey. He’d fucked up, bad, bad enough to drive Ian away completely, because he was gutless and afraid. He’d changed, since then, and he’d done his best to make it right, but he couldn’t undo the damage that had already been done.

"But," Lip continued. "Since you’ve been hanging around - he’s starting to seem better. Maybe even okay, sometimes. You’re putting him back together while everything else around here is falling apart, and I appreciate that. He loves you, and you love him, and you’re really helping him, and if you’re gonna fight for him - if you’re gonna do this thing with him for real, see this shit through - well, that’s all I can ask."

Mickey looked up, watching Lip, and he groaned internally at the stinging in his eyes. They were quiet for a long time before Mickey nodded, and Lip smiled.

"So don’t fuck it up," Lip added, with a tiny grin this time, although Mickey knew he wasn’t kidding at all. "He’s my brother. He come first. You hurt him, you do anything to him - I’m not afraid to kill you if I have to."

Mickey scoffed, rolling his eyes, feeling significantly more relaxed, although the weight of the conversation still bore heavy on his shoulders.

"Please," Mickey responsed. "Do I gotta remind you how many times I beat the shit outta you before?"

Lip’s smile fell for a second and he stared at Mickey very seriously. “Do I have to remind you how many times you beat the shit outta the kid who’s bed you’re sleeping in?”

Mickey deflated, feeling struck. “That was different, man, that was a long time ago-” he started to defend himself, before Lip lifted a hand to stop him.

"I know," Lip said, nodding. "It’s over, in the past. I’m just saying - you got a lot of making up to do. I’m taking the biggest fuckin’ leap of faith on you, man. Don’t make me regret it."

Mickey stared for a long time before he let it go, relaxing a little and sighing.

"Yeah," he said finally, looking up at him. "I’m gonna do my best."

Lip shrugged. “That’s all I ask.”

Quiet filled the room after that, and Mickey knew the conversation was over. He nodded to himself, shooting Lip one last look before turning back towards the stairs, abandoning his coffee and juice. It would be there later. Right now - right now, he needed the one thing that always helped him when the world got to be a little too much.

He pushed the door to Ian’s room open quietly, sighing in relief when he saw Ian was still in bed, eyes shut and breathing even. Mickey swallowed hard, staring at him for a long moment and the way the sun came in through the blinds, hitting Ian’s pale skin just so that it almost glowed, dancing on his hair so it looked like a flame, hot and vibrant and alive. If there had ever been any doubt in his mind that he loved this boy - he must have been delusional. Mickey swallowed shakily, cursing himself for getting choked up over just the fucking sight of Ian, shaking the feeling away and sliding back into bed with him as gently as he could. As he wrapped his arms around Ian’s chest, tucking his bed into his shoulder and breathing him in, Lip’s words came back to him, and he replayed the conversation over again in his mind. The weight of it was with him, heavy and aching, just like his injuries, both reminders of how much his entire world had changed over this one damn boy. He didn’t have to hope to himself it was worth it though. He knew it was. For Ian, anything was worth it.


End file.
